Swift Strike (SEAL Team 14 Book 2) (4 page)

Jesse did not hesitate to pull the trigger. He took the head shot. The entire tragic ordeal was over in a matter of seconds.

Slumping to the ground, the knife slipped from the man’s lifeless fingers. Jesse sprinted toward Lena who’d also collapsed to the floor in the aftermath of the shot.

Dropping to his knees, he reached for her. His hands swiftly skimmed her face and neck to see if she’d somehow been injured in the shooting, checking for a heartbeat. His eyes closed in relief when he felt the persistent thudding of her pulse against his fingertips.

Slipping a hand underneath her head, he touched her shortened locks. Those assholes had apparently chopped off her hair. Luckily, she hadn’t been harmed by his shot. She was drenched in the blood and brain matter of her captor, but she didn’t have any visible bullet wounds or lacerations. She still lay unresponsive, but she had probably fainted from the stress of the situation.

“Jesse, we have got to hustle, man,” Luke intoned quietly from somewhere behind him. “We’ve got about seven minutes to make it back to surface and to the boat.”

Glancing at the tall, shadowy figures behind him, Jesse saw that his teammates were now posted like sentries just outside of the door. They were attentively monitoring the area, ensuring that no AnSawar members could get the jump on them.

Carefully reaching his hands under her legs and waist, Jesse began to lift Lena’s body up into his arms. And then, her eyes flickered open. Her mouth dropped open in a silent, startled gasp. Those freshly opened eyes expanded in alarm as she took in his ninja-like garb.

“It’s okay,” he reassured her, holding out the palms of his hands in an appeasing motion. “It’s okay. We’re U.S. Navy SEALs, ma’am. We’re here to bring you home.”

Jesse watched as her eyes watered, brimming with unshed tears. And then something he wasn’t expecting happened. She hugged him. As weak as she had to have been, she buried her face in the side of his neck and held on to him like she would never let him go.

“Thank you. Thank you,” she softly sobbed against his skin, the hot tears now leaking out between her closed eyelids.

“Shh. It’s okay now, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” he murmured, gently hugging her back before lifting her up into his arms. Her arms stayed firmly wrapped around him as he carried her from that dark lair and out into the light.

One Day Later

U.S.S. Conroy

Indian Ocean

C
old air wafted
down from the overhead ventilation units causing gooseflesh to arise on Lena’s skin. She barely registered them though. Her full concentration was on the barrage of questions that the men surrounding her in the room were sending her way.

As soon as she’d arrived on the ship, she’d been given access to a small bedroom suite with an attached bathroom. She’d taken advantage of the accommodations by taking a much needed shower. She’d been given a pair of green military fatigues to wear, which happened to be about two sizes too large. Now, she was seated at one end of an octahedral metal and glass table in one of the rooms that were used for conferencing.

“Are you certain that
you have never met any of these men before?”

The incessant
whirring
from the overhead vents were almost as unnerving as the hard glares she was receiving from the other eyes in the room.

“Yes, of course I’m sure. I’m positive. I would remember if I had seen any of them.” Lena sat across from two naval officers and a FBI agent in a small conference room that had a sterile vibe to it. The commander of the SEAL Team that rescued her, Mark something or other, had taken over the questioning session a few minutes earlier.

“How long have you been working at WG Oil?”

“For about a year now.”

“Your father owns the plant, correct?”

“Not outright. He only owns part of it. He’s one of five partners in the management structure. But he does have a fifteen percent stake in the company.”

“Does your father have any enemies that you are aware of?” the Commander continued. “Someone who may have wanted to get even with him for some business dealing that may have gone sour?”

This must be what the Spanish Inquisition felt like. “I wouldn’t know anything about that. My father has many different companies, and I do not discuss the ins and outs of his business operations with him. If you need answers to these questions, shouldn’t you be asking him?”

“We will,” the Commander said. All three men sat there glaring at her, and it was maddening. What did they hope to gain by asking these pointless questions? They were wasting time when they should be out there looking for the rest of the terrorists who held her hostage and murdered her friends.

“I’m sorry, but what does my father’s business acquaintances have to do with what just happened?” she asked. “We were attacked by a terrorist group, not one of my father’s friends.”

Lena raked a hand through her hair, stopping short when she remembered that most of it was back on a blood-stained concrete floor miles away from here. Frustrated, she scrubbed her hands over her face.

“The group is named AnSawar. And yes, it looks like it was just a random attack. But we have to cover all of our bases here. As you know, many of your colleagues weren’t as lucky as you were.”

Lucky
. Yeah, she guessed she was lucky—it just didn’t feel that way right now. “What about Steven? Did you find Steven?” Absentmindedly, she tugged at the pewter, gothic cross pendant around her neck that she always wore. It was an inexpensive, simple trinket. Steven had given it to her as a gift for her fifteenth birthday. She’d been an unusually morose teenager who’d had an affinity for all things black and purple, but Steven’s positive reinforcement helped her get through those troubling years in one piece. Even though she rarely went to church services, unless it was for Christmas Mass or a wedding, she never took her necklace off. By some rare good luck, the terrorists had not stripped her out of her clothes when they’d performed a basic weapons search on her, so she still had her necklace—eternally a reminder of her fallen friend.

The Commander glanced over at the FBI Agent, Michael Gerard, who answered, “Steven Cutler? No. We just got off the phone with members of the African Union security force in Somalia. They scoured the facility a few hours after we left...there was no sign of Mr. Cutler.”

“No. He was there. I was not imagining it. I saw him, they killed him. That monster
killed
him, right in front of me.”

All three of the men gaped at her, their unease and doubt evident on their faces. They probably thought she was about to burst into a simpering mess of tears. They didn’t have to say it; she could see it in their eyes. None of them believed her story.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you, Ms. Westlake,” Gerard said. “But you’ve been under a tremendous amount of stress these past few days. And no one would blame you if you were...mistaken. You said he was killed in the utility room right above the entrance to the underground chamber?”

Wearily nodding her head, Lena propped her chin up on her hands.

“After we left, AU soldiers specifically checked that room, and his body wasn’t accounted for. Now, it is possible AnSawar could’ve moved his body.” From the grave intonation of Gerard’s voice, Lena could sense a “but” coming. “However, from the time frame you’ve given us it doesn’t seem likely. You estimated that from the point Mr. Cutler was stabbed to when you heard the first shots of gunfire of the SEAL Team entering the facility was about two minutes, right?”

Lena nodded her head in affirmation. “You see,” Gerard continued in his clinical, almost professorial voice, “it would be very difficult for any members of AnSawar to dump the body far outside of the facility in that short amount of time.”

“I don’t understand,” she said, clasping her hands tightly together. “If his body wasn’t there someone had to have moved it. Maybe it’s somewhere deeper inside the facility?”

“We will let you know if the AU forces turn up anything on their subsequent sweeps of the building,” Gerard replied glibly, tapping his fingers rapidly on the desk. This guy was really starting to grate on her nerves.

“Getting back to the descriptions of the men who were holding you hostage,” the Commander interjected, changing the direction of the questioning. “You said one of them had hazel eyes? Did you get a good look at him?”

“Yes. He took his face mask off.” The gazes of all three men sharpened on her face upon soaking up that tidbit of information.

“Describe him for us.”

“He was tall. Maybe a few inches taller than you are. He was young. Maybe mid-thirties? His skin was tanned. Oh, he had a big, bushy beard and mustache.”

“Any identifying marks? Tattoos or scars?” the SEAL Team leader prodded.

“No. Not that I could see. There was nothing extraordinary about him, he looked...normal.” That was one of the scariest things about him, for someone who’d committed such unspeakable acts of violence, he’d looked so ordinary.

“Could you tell what nationality he was?”

“No, I can’t be certain. He spoke English fluently, but he had an accent that I couldn’t place.”

“Did this man have any identifying markings that you could see, for example, tattoos or scars?”

“No, most of his body was covered by his clothing.”

“Do you think you’d be able to work with one of our sketch artists once we get back on dry land?” Gerard asked.

“Sure.” Lena just wanted this nightmare to be over as soon as possible. She was alive, but Steven wasn’t. Steven, a man who had been like a father to her for years, was now deceased. And it did not matter to her that the SEALs hadn’t found his body in the facility, Steven was dead and she knew it deep in her bones.

But sadly, she could not do anything for Steven now. She needed to return home so she could begin rebuilding her life. She had to at least attempt move past everything that had transpired.

Fifteen hours ago, she had boarded the
U.S.S. Conroy
naval vessel. The boat was stationed at Diego Garcia, an atoll in the middle of the Indian Ocean. As soon as she had arrived aboard the ship, a Navy physician looked her over for any sign of physical injuries. The doctor had administered to her an IV drip for dehydration. Besides a few contusions and scrapes, she didn’t have any major wounds. However, she had recommended that Lena have her primary care doctor look over her once she got back home.

The SEAL Team had brought the newly freed hostages directly to the
U.S.S. Conroy
, instead of Camp Harding, because of their intent to question the four terrorists who’d been captured alive during the operation. It still sent chills down her spine that some of the monsters who’d held her captive were still so near to her.

Navy officials explained that her own interview would only last for an hour, and then she’d be cleared to leave. Her nerves were still frayed around the edges. She was beyond exhausted, but at least she was free and alive.

Much of the past few hours was a blur to her, but she remembered speaking on the phone with her mother, Claire. Lena had used one of the satellite telephones in the Rear Admiral’s office suite to contact her. Claire was wasting no time in getting to her daughter’s side and was taking the redeye flight from Miami to Windhoek, Namibia. She would be meeting her daughter at Lena’s home in Walvis Bay.

“I think those are all the questions we have for you right now, Ms. Westlake. I know you’re probably anxious to get some more rest before you leave. The information you’ve provided has been very useful.”

Slightly dazed and confused, Lena exited the meeting room. The FBI agent just had to be wrong when he insisted that Steven’s remains hadn’t been found. It didn’t make any sense. Why would AnSawar take precious minutes to hide away Steven’s body when the SEAL Team attacked?

No, they would not do that. It just was not rational. Steven’s remains had to be somewhere inside of the facility. Or maybe one of the bodies had been erroneously identified. After all, mix-ups happened all the time, didn’t they? One of the agents must have a mistake somewhere down the line. Soon she would receive a call telling her that Steven’s body had been recovered. And then they would be able to give him a proper burial. She believed that. She
had
to believe that.

As soon as the transfer boat arrived, she would be leaving the carrier express for Namibia. Then she could finally begin to come to grips with maelstrom that had transpired over the past few weeks. She could start to make sense of this new emotional reality, which still felt as though she were reading pages from someone else’s life. Or more specifically, pages from someone else’s nightmare.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t see the Titanesque soldier walking in her direction until she collided solidly with his rock hard chest. Only the sheer strength of his arm wrapping tightly around her waist prevented her from completely tumbling to the floor.

“Whoa there. Sorry about that, ma’am. That was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

It was the soldier from last night, the same one who’d rescued her. With midnight-black hair, dimples, tanned skin, and green eyes he looked like every girl’s dream man. The amazing smile he flashed at her should have come with its own warning label.
Caution: the most handsome, rapture-inducing man you’ve ever met is about to throw a blinding, bone-melting, one thousand megawatt smile your way—try not to slip into the abyss.

Much to her surprise and gratitude, Lena was able to hold his steady gaze without giving in to the urge to blush. Suffice it to say, in her book, he was perfect. The peculiar reddish-brown hue of his eyebrows was the only thing out of place along with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose that brought out the boy in him.

But in case Lena was operating under the mistaken impression that he was anything other than a full-grown man, she was disabused of that notion as soon as her gaze traveled to his shoulders. His shoulders were about a mile wide, and he towered over her as tall as a skyscraper. It was a wonder that he could even navigate through the tight corridors of the ship without constantly cracking his head against the low-hanging ceiling. His arm muscles were so well-defined that they seemed to be in a constant state of flex. He looked impossibly strong, like he could easily handle any challenge that came his way. She could clearly recall the feeling of those same brawny arms around her as he carried her out to the boat that had escorted her to safety.

Her rescuer’s facial features had been impossible to make out last night, but she was positive that it was the same man because of the sound of his voice. He had this deep, velvety timbre. The strength and sincerity in his voice moved over her in wave after delicious wave. And when the world became too cold to bear alone, it was the type of voice that she would want to wrap herself up into like a warm blanket.

“I’m fine. But please, call me Lena,” she said, taking a self-conscious step away from him.

Again, he flashed a confident smile at her, his emerald eyes shining. The unabashed smirk made him look young, carefree, and even more handsome.

“Right, Lena. So uh...your interview is over?”

“Yes. I just finished. I’m not sure if I was very helpful, though. It was hard to remember everything that occurred. I’m sure I rambled and mentioned a lot of unnecessary information.”